


Deadbolt

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 21:44:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11814780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: So he’s eager; so what?





	Deadbolt

They’ve shut the door, deadbolted it, gone over the game plan for tomorrow’s exhibition match against Kaijou (at a certain point Wei had started wondering if Tatsuya had just been teasing, his fingers brushing Wei’s in such a way that had made it even harder to concentrate on going over plays and where he’s supposed to set up in relation to the net and the arc. He’s pretty fucking obvious, but that doesn’t stop Tatsuya from going over it at a pace that seems even slower and, well. He’s probably the only person who could think about basketball (exhibition basketball, no less) at a time like this.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Wei grumbles when Tatsuya lays his clipboard on the nightstand; Himuro laughs as Liu rolls on top of him and plants a kiss on his jaw.

So he’s eager; so what? It’s not like they’ve had a chance to do this since Tokyo, two very excellent nights and two just as excellent morning, slow sleepy sex that had made them almost miss the train back (where they’d sat in a compartment with Tatsuya tucked under Wei’s arm, half-asleep). Wei had thought it wasn’t going to get much better than this, but he wasn’t counting on it getting that much fucking worse right away. Ramped up practice, more work for him in taking over for Murasakibara temporarily, more work for Tatsuya shouldering more of the offense, more lectures from Coach on this is why you’re not allowed to play matches outside of the official ones, more schoolwork and college applications. And whenever they’ve made the time, the world has come busting through the wall to deny them. Their roommates are both in desperate need of their rooms; they try to stay after practice but the locker room is particularly filthy or there’s some third-wheel first year who just won’t leave or who needs to ask one of them a question. Supply closets, as much as they’re a cliché high school hookup spots, really aren’t big enough for the two of them, especially if they’re tearing at each other’s clothes. There had been one time when Tatsuya had tried to use the student council room, and Wei’s mouth had been just a few centimeters from Tatsuya’s where he’d been sitting on top of the desk, and then the vice president had burst through the door and stolen Tatsuya to talk about the budget.

But now they’re fucking finally here, in a hotel room in Kanagawa, a slightly lumpy double bed where Wei’s feet hang off the end if he lies down all the way but more than big enough for right now, to look at Tatsuya underneath him, too fucking gorgeous for the shitty halfway burned out light of the bedside lamp, but Wei’s allowed to stare at Tatsuya and drink him in like the cheap beer they can buy without being carded at a particular convenience store. He leans down to kiss Tatsuya properly, winds his fingers through Tatsuya’s soft hair and scrapes the tip of his thumb over Tatsuya’s ear, waiting for the tiny hitch in Tatsuya’s breath, the flutter of his lashes, the pleasure he takes in watching it all and knowing he’s the one doing this to Tatsuya.

Tatsuya’s tongue is soft against his; he tastes like honey and those shitty strawberry candies Murasakibara doesn’t like and ends up giving to Tatsuya when he gets them in a multipack. Maybe it’s because he’s so focused on this he doesn’t notice the knock at the door until it becomes constant and urgent.

“Fuck,” Tatsuya says, pushing him off; Wei can’t speak for himself but Tatsuya definitely looks like he’s been kissed, cheeks slightly flushed and lips parted like that.

“I’ll get it,” says Wei, moving toward the door; Himuro doesn’t stop him.

One glance back at the second bed shows it looks messy enough to plausibly say he’d been sitting on it; that will be good enough for Coach or one of their teammates (Wei’s phone remains silent; he’s got no new texts at least). He bends over to look through the peephole; a distressed-looking first year is standing on the other side. Wei undoes the deadbolt and opens the door, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s up?”

“Um,” says the first year. “I went out to the convenience store and when I got back my roommate had deadbolted our door and gone to sleep…he wouldn’t answer, and.”

Wei’s about to ask why he wouldn’t ask Coach, but he wouldn’t want to disturb her either and it’s probably late enough to be after curfew (simply going out is enough of a risk on its own, but whatever).

“Can you call him?”

“I tried that.”

Wei sighs; the kid needs a place to sleep at least for now and the easiest thing to do would be to let him in and give him the floor, which is stupid when he and Tatsuya are more than willing to share a bed—but that creates its own problems, like how much he wants Tatsuya and how fucking close they were, or are if they can manage to get this kid back to his own room.

“What’s up, Komatsu-kun?” says Tatsuya, coming up behind Wei and almost leaning on him (Wei can feel his fucking body heat, what the fuck).

“Can I sleep here? I’ll stay on the floor and I won’t make a sound and I’ll give you some of my chips—”

Tatsuya holds up a hand. “That’s not necessary. What’s the problem?”

“My roommate locked the door and went to sleep.”

“Oikawa?”

A nod.

Tatsuya sighs and looks at Wei. Wei looks back, trying to say without words that this is Tatsuya’s fault for being such an accessible captain who all the underclassmen love and trust because right about now they should have a hundred percent fewer clothes on.

“You can take the bed nearest the window. I can sleep with Wei.”

Wei nearly chokes on his breath; of course Tatsuya had absolutely fucking meant that (Komatsu, thankfully, is too naïve or wrapped up in himself to get it).

“Is that okay?”

Wei shrugs. “Yeah. Just try not to talk in your sleep.”

Komatsu thanks them profusely, and Wei tries to remember if they’d left out anything obvious, if the fact that Tatsuya’s wearing one of Wei’s old shirts makes everything transparent (they don’t get too small for him quite that quickly anymore, but this one definitely is). Komatsu’s asleep in five seconds flat; Tatsuya twists the cap shut on his convenience store iced tea and sticks it in the mini fridge. He doesn’t stir at the sounds of them moving about, but Wei still keeps his voice quiet as they get settled in their bed and Tatsuya nestles very close against Wei’s chest. Wei pulls hum in, at least for now.

“How are you explaining this part?”

“I’ll be up early. Tell him it’s an American thing, or that you get cold.”

Wei snorts. “Yeah, if any of these kids every go there they’re going to be awfully surprised that it’s not filled with archaic Japanese cultural references and platonic spooning and whatever the hell else you’ve told them.”

Tatsuya laughs, quietly, enough to make his shoulders shake against Wei’s chest. Wei places a silent kiss on the side of his neck.

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow morning,” Tatsuya murmurs.

(Right before they fall asleep that’s not fucking fair, but nothing with Tatsuya ever is.)


End file.
